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Slut goes to a custom car show looking for NSA sex.

"Sure." Came Ian's voice panted in reply. "Don't worry."

Lynda gave the little moan she gave whenever I touched her clit.

"Oh yes."

"Yes." Came Ian's reply. "Help me get it in. Turn around woman."

I imagined Lynda turning away from Ian and, bending from the waist, resting her head on her hands against the wall of the shower.

"Open your legs." Ian urged.

I glanced across at Paul. He was watching me. Gauging my reaction. I should drag him from there. It wasn't right to listen to my best friend being fucked. Despite its soreness I could feel my fanny begin to moisten as I listen to the grunts and groans from behind the shower curtain. I wanted to touch myself.

"Ah." Lynda stifled a cry of pleasure.

I had to rub my pubic mound to relieve the pressure building inside me. Paul was coming closer. His hand was on my waist. His other hand was fumbling with my zip, pulling it down. His hand was inside my panties searching for my clit. It was throbbing. It was sore. It was great.

It was my turn to gasp out loud as he flicked it from side to side. I could hear Ian panting and Lynda's sighs. They were both becoming more urgent. Paul's finger was moving faster.

I threw back my head as I came.

I could hear Ian and Lynda. From their sounds they were nearly there. Paul removed his hand and opened the door. We tiptoed into the dressing room as Lynda cried out in orgasm.

The door to the main room opened and Mary showed her head around the edge.

"Ah. You've finished have you?" She said, stepping into the room. "Take over from me please, Jenny. Will you stand guard, Paul? I need to go."

Paul stood by the door as Mary entered and closed it behind her. I hoped Ian had finished. Lynda had told me how it was not unusual for him to come twice or even three times without taking it out of her. I hoped she wasn't getting sore.

Back in the main room I served a couple of cups of tea. The room was beginning to empty. The umpires were walking out into the middle of the pitch followed by the East Chipstable team. I glanced up at the team list on the notice board behind the bar. Roger and Bill were going to bat first. There was a burst of applause from outside and I looked through the window. They were making their way out. Ron, the curate came into the room.

"I'd best get padded up." He said, heading towards the changing room.

I could hear voices coming from inside. Loud voices.

"How could you." Mary's voice.

"Ah. It was nothing." Ian's voice came back in reply. I wished I was in there.

"What's going on?" David asked.

He followed Ron into the changing room.

"What's happening?" Shirley hissed into my ear.

"Well." I spoke softly, turning my back to the bar. "It seems that Ian and Lynda are in the shower together and Mary went in to use the toilet."

"Were they there when you were in there?"


"What were they doing?"





She had a smile on her lips.

"And you think Mary caught them?"

The door was thrown open and Lynda burst into the room.

"I'm not being spoken to like that." She shouted.

"Calm down." I said, stepping towards her.

"No." She snapped back.

Everybody was looking at us.

"Lynda? Isn't it." Ron spoke softly and came to stand by our side.

"Who are you?" Lynda snapped.

"This is Ron." I explained, holding her hand. "He's the curate."

"Sorry vicar." Lynda looked at him.

The pressure of her hand on mine increased. I returned the squeeze.

"Let's all sit down quietly and discuss it." Ron suggested.

He had a lovely voice. So steady and comforting. I'd go with him if he asked me.

"Come on." Ron insisted gently. "It'll be alright."

Lynda released my hand and allowed Ron to lead her back into the changing room. At the door he stopped and turned and smiled, first at me then at Shirley.

The door closed then re-opened again and Paul came out carrying his cricket gear.

"I'd best get changed." He said, placing one boot on a chair and starting to buckle on his pads.

"What happened?" Shirley and I asked as one.

"Mother hea

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